Once the bed was covered with fluffy bath-towels, Vanessa jumped on it and lay with her legs spread wide.

“Look how wet you’ve got me,” she said, sliding a couple of fingers easily in and out of her pussy. “And that’s not just from the bath. Here, taste.”

I came over and sucked her slippery fingers into my mouth. “Yum, just right,” I pronounced.

“I hope you rinsed your dick really well,” said Vanessa, teasingly, “I hate the taste of soap.”

With this she dragged me by my stiff cock up to the edge of the bed and bent down to engulf the end of my prick in her warm, wet mouth. Holding the base with her right hand she moved her lips and tongue purposefully up and down the upper portion. Then she stopped and pulled it out of her mouth.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured me, “later Nessa will suck you off properly and let you spurt your tasty cum into her hungry little mouth. But for now, its my pussy that wants to welcome you to your new home.”

I climbed onto the bed and took Vanessa in my arms. As my lips found hers, she guided my stiffness into the soft, warm wetness between her legs. As my dick slid home I felt a wave of love and gratitude towards this lovely creature who had ended my island solitude. Some emotional dam broke within me and I clasped her to me like a life-preserver to a drowning man, as my body shook silently, and water ran freely from my eyes.

“God, Vanessa. I love you so much,” I confessed.

“Shhhh, shhhhh,” she replied soothingly stroking the back of my neck. “There’s no need for words right now.”

As I slid my cock back and forth insider her slippery wetness, I thought about how Vanessa had teased me with her naked body and her sexy flirty talk over the previous few days. Now at last I could satisfy all that frustration. I stopped holding back and, arching my back, thrust my cock as far into her as it would go.

“This is what you get for teasing me so much,” I cried as I pounded away so hard that she had to brace her hands against the head of the bed to prevent her from slamming her head against it.”

“That’s just what I had in mind,” Vanessa panted. “Fuck me hard.”

It wasn’t long before I exploded, coating the inner walls of Vanessa’s pussy with spurt after spurt of hot cum.

“Wow!” she breathed, running her fingers through her wet hair and licking the sweat off of her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. “That was fan-tasss-tic.” She was obviously too worn out to close her legs and left them spread casually apart, exposing her well-satisfied, wide-open pussy as it dripped a mixture of cum and pussy juice onto the towels beneath. “I just feel so satisfied, I wish I could wrap my legs around the whole world.”

“Come on, dream lover,” Vanessa suggested, after we had gathered our breath for about ten minutes, “let’s go for a midnight dip.”

As we walked down to the beach, we looked up at the stars and the almost full moon above us. Sexual catharsis had left us feeling loose-limbed and at ease in our naked bodies. But it had also set free our minds. No longer focussed on our own unmet desires, they reached out to embrace the universe. We talked at length about this later, so I know, though she said nothing at the time, that Vanessa felt it too. Under that starry sky we knew that we were standing on a rock circling a sun that was but one of many billions of suns. But though we were small in the scheme of that massive universe, we knew that it was not cold and meaningless. No, it welcomed us with open arms, because the energy that coursed through our veins as we made love to each other was the same energy that made its planets spin.

The sea welcomed us with a luke-warm but intimate embrace.

“I love the way the water feels on my horny pussy,” Vanessa confided. “Sometimes I come out here into the water at night just to play with myself. I lay back and float on top of the water, like this. It takes a lot of self-control, to float and play with myself at the same time. If I get too carried away and thrash about I sink. But if I lay back and relax and play with my clitty gently, I can work my way up gradually, to a really horny climax. I bet the man in the moon blushes when he looks down and sees a naughty girl shamelessly playing with herself in front of him.”

“Lucky old man in the moon,” I commented.

“Silly,” she chided me. “You can see me play with myself anytime you like.”

Eventually we ran back out of the water and flopped wetly onto a towel, which Vanessa had brought down with us “so I don’t get sand up my bottom,” as she put it so delicately.

“Is there any event in your life that you return to again and again when you are fantasizing?” asked Vanessa, thoughtfully.

“Why do you ask?” I wanted to know.

“Well,” she explained, “I have this theory that, if you get hung up on a particular fantasy, it limits your ability to enjoy the endless erotic possibilities of life. Once I did a book about a prositute in Victorian London who falls in love with a rich customer (it was about the time ‘Pretty Woman’ came out and my publisher suggested the theme). Anyway, I decided that I had better do some research, and lacking a time machine or the money to travel to London, I went to see some Time Square prostitutes. It was an eye-opener, I can tell you. Not that much of my research ended up in the book. My readers definitely don’t want to know about those things. But what I found time and again as I listened to the girls’ stories was that many of their customers were not enjoying the rich, erotic sexual experience that the girls could probably have provided, but were coming to them because they were the only ones who would be with them physically while they worked away at some fantasy that wouldn’t let them alone, like a dog scratching after a flea. The pros would be with them physically, but mentally their obsession left them forever alone. They weren’t interested in what the girls were like as people, not even whether they were pretty, only ‘Will she piss on me? Will she dig her sharp stilettoes into my back? Will she call me daddy?‚’

“Pretty sad, sick stuff,” I admitted.

“But, why?” she asked. “Because they can’t forgive themselves for something, I suppose. They get off ON something, but it won’t get off OF them. But fantasy doesn’t have to be like that. It can be an exploration, an opening up. So what is it that you go back to time and again?”

“Well,” I began. “I remembered it the other day when we were putting the sunscreen on each other. It happened when I was still in high school. I went to the beach for a swim with my best friend and his mom. She was putting sunscreen on my back and the feel of her soft, gentle hands on my back caused me to get an erection. At that age almost anything will give a guy a stiffy. She asked me to turn around so she could do the front. ‘That's O.K.,’ I said nervously, ‘I'll just keep my back to the sun.’ ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she laughed, forcing me to turn around. ‘Oh dear!‚’ she blushed when she saw what I was embarassed about. ‘I’m quite flattered, but I better take you over here among the trees until it goes down, just so nobody else sees it and gets the wrong idea.’ That’s as far as it went, but, of course, later, in my fantasies, she would drag me off among the trees and give me a blow-job.”

“See, that’s perfect. You and I can go back to that time and this time I’ll make sure you get that blow-job. If that naughty woman had given you what you wanted at the time you would have never got hung up on the thought in the first place,” Vanessa expressed herself heatedly.

“If that lady had given me what I wanted it might have got her in a lot of hot water,” I pointed out, sensibly. “Anyway I don’t want to go back and be with her. I want to be with you.”

“I know that, David,” Vanessa replied giving me a kiss. “But sharing fantasies can be fun. It’s almost as much fun to play inside someone’s mind, as it is to play with their body.”

“So what kind of fantasies did you have before you were old enough for the real thing?” I asked.

“Well, my favourite, when I was just sweet sixteen, was walking into the boy’s shower room at school,” she replied. “You have to understand, I was quite insecure at the time, a shy, slightly spotty teenager who wasn’t sure if any of the guys would fancy her. But in my fantasies guys always acted like I was a total sex goddess. I didn’t make myself look more glamorous in my fantasies, you understand. It was only their reactions to me that I enhanced somewhat. So anyway, it was after sports practice and I strode confidently into the boy’s shower room, wearing white t-shirt, white shorts, white socks and white sandshoes. All in white, because after all I was a virgin. I looked over the dozen or so boys standing naked under the showers. They were a pretty motley bunch, some fat, some gangly, but all had a smile on their face when they saw me and not one tried to hide his soapy teenage dick from my enquiring gaze. ‘This is a protest against segregation,’ I explained to them. ‘I don’t believe in the segragation of bathing based solely on gender.’ As I casually remove my clothes to reveal my nubile, pink, teenaged body, I watched a dozen adolescent pricks swell up to full erection. None of the boys touched themselves, but as I finally kick off my shorts and stood proudly, hairy pussy thrust towards them, they all exploded simultaneously like a 21-gun salute. Since this was a fantasy, they didn’t just shoot out a spoonful of cum each, no they came like bursting fire-hoses. In ropes and skeins and spurtings, it splattered all over my innocent naked body until I looked like the looser in a nude tapioca-hurling contest. ‘All right, boys,’ I addressed them, wiping slimy cum from my eyes, ‘you made me messy. Now you are going to have to get me clean.’”

“And so?” I asked.

“That’s all there was to the fantasy,” she explained. “I never really fantasized about sex at that age. I just fantasized about being sexy.”

“You don’t have to fantasize about that anymore,” I told her. “You’re sexy enough in real life.”

“Let’s play a game I just made up,” suggested Vanessa.

“What’s it called?” I asked.

“Ummm....” she said, thinking, “it’s called...it’s called...oh, I know! It’s called Total Indulgence.” She said it with all the orgasmic throatiness of a chocolate commercial.

“It’s a game for two, of course,” she explained, “and here’s how you play. Each person has to invent a sexual fantasy for the other competitor which is so ridiculously far-fetched, egotistical, politically incorrect or just plain embarrassing that their competitor will be too embarrassed to admit that it appeals to them and yet which turns them on so much that they won’t be able to deny it. The trick is to pick up on all those fantasy elements he or she just cannot resist and pile them all into the same story. Get them behaving, in the story, like a shameless pig or slut, and, in real life begging to hear more, and then cry ‘Gotcha!’. Understand?”

“I think so,” I replied.

“That’s O.K. I’ll go first so you get the idea,” she said. “Now are you comfortable. You’ll need to have room for your cock to get really stiff,” she warned, “because with me telling the story you just know that it will. Oh, and I’m not allowed to play with it. That would be an unfair advantage. I have to use my oral...no, let me reword that, my story-telling abilities alone, to bring out your, shall we say, inner pig. In my case you have to bring out my inner slut. But I digress. Where was I. Oh, yeah, no cock-stroking on my part. You can play with yourself, though. It loses you points of course, but don’t let that stop you. Like with all my games the losers usually end up having more fun than the winners anyway. Are you ready to begin?”

“I suppose so,” I replied, not knowing what to expect but looking forward to it anyway.

“This story,” Vanessa began, “is about a time when you were only eighteen and you went to stay the weekend at your friend Tom’s house. You arrived at his house about dinner time and met his mother and his sister, who was seventeen. His father was away on business.

“As you ate your meal you noticed how attractive Tom’s mother was. She was about 40 with shoulder length auburn hair and with a full and shapely figure. What a coincidence, she looked just like me. Tom’s sister was also very pretty in a pink-cheeked, vivacious way. During the meal she kept giving you a shy smile.

“For dessert you had iciclepops. For some reason the sight of Tom’s sister, whose name was Cecilia, or Sissy for short, giving her long purple icicle slow licks from bottom to top with her soft, pink tongue, or shoving it between her lips and sucking it back out again, slurping the sticky juice into her mouth noisely, gave you an outrageous stiffy, more or less exactly like the one you are currently sporting, and which, if I am any judge of character, you will be playing with shortly.

“But, as usual, I digress,” Vanessa went on. “Nothing very unusual happened on that first night. You were placed in a spare room and made comfortable. At bedtime you were asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

“It was the next morning when things really start to get interesting. You sleep in. Looking at the clock you realise that Tom is at football, and will not be returning until after lunch. Then there is a knock on the bedroom door.

“’Come in,’ you call. It is Tom’s mother - Sarah is her name - carrying breakfast things. This is not unusual. What is unusual however is that she is wearing absolutely no clothes. She is totally nude. Above the breakfast tray her breasts swing free, below is revealed a neatly trimmed red bush.

“Sarah sees the look of surprise on your face and puts the tray down on the bedside table. “Didn’t Tom explain?” she asks. “About us being nudists.”

“’No,’ you reply, ‘he didn’t.’

“’This must come as something of a shock for you then. We never wear clothes at home on the weekend. Last night of course we had clothes on because I had come from work and Tom and Sissy from school, but on Saturday and Sunday, unless we are going out, there just never does seem to be any point in putting on clothes. I can’t believe you are wearing pajamas. You’ll be much more comfortable when you get them off.’

“So saying she sits next to you on the bed and slowly and tenderly undoes the buttons of your pajama top and pulls it off. Her sensuous, casual nakedness so close to you causes your cock to go rock hard. When she pulls down the bed-clothes she notices this.

“’That’s nothing to be embarrassed about,’ she comments, casually, ‘lots of guys get like that in the morning.

There you are,’ she says chirpily, as she drags down your pajama bottoms and your prick flops hard up against your belly. ‘Just as nature intended.’

“’I’ll butter your toast for you, too‚ she offers, sitting back down on the side of the bed and turning towards you so that her legs are spread giving you a unimpeded view of her pink pussy lips. ‘I always like to spoil Tom’s friends.’

“It certainly seems like an accident, but how can you really be sure. Sarah is applying large quantities of butter to the piping hot toast when some drips off the edge and lands on your stiff prick.

“’Oh, dear, mustn’t get it on the bed-clothes,’ she cries, trying unsuccessfully to stop the flow of warm, liquid butter down the shaft of your erection with her finger.

“’Emergency measures,’ she cries, dropping her head into your lap and licking and sucking up the length of your cock.

“At this moment the door opens and in walks Sissy, a cock-stiffening vision of pink seventeen-year-old nakedness.” It was at this point that my resistance crumpled.

“Oink, oink,” I squealed, grabbing my cock and wanking it shamelessly.

“Don’t shoot your load, yet, loverboy,” Vanessa warned me, “the best is yet to come.”

“Go on, go on,” I begged.

“’Mummy, why are you sucking David’s cock?” asks Sissy.

“’I wasn’t sucking it Sissy. I was just licking the butter off of it. There is a difference you know,” she added.

“’I wonder if Daddy would understand the difference,” Sissy speculates meaningfully.

“’All right,” Sarah sighed, “what do you want this time?”

“’I want to invite David to our no-pajamas party tonight,’ Sissy explains with a cheeky wink at you.

“’But you know you are not allowed to have boy’s at your no-pajamas parties,’ Sarah protests.

“’I won’t tell Daddy, if you don’t,’ Sissy states firmly.

“’Oh, all right,’ Sarah surrenders.

“Tom is so tired out after his football match that he goes to bed straight after dinner. We won’t be seeing him again. Sarah also has gone to bed, after helping Sissy set up for her party. She is not happy about the situation but knows that only total cooperation will keep Sissy quiet.

“And so it is that you and Sissy are sitting totally starkers, amid the chips, dips, soda pop and party games, as the guests start to arrive.

“The first is a girl called Suzy. She is dressed in jeans and a t-shirt when Sissy lets her in. Her short, dark curls frame a slightly chubby, rosy-complexioned face. Her boobs are large for her tender age and her jeans stretch tight over an ample ass.

“’Meet David,’ Sissy tells her, as her eyes light on you for the first time. ‘He’s our special guest.’

“’Wow, a boy. How did you manage that?’ cries Suzy exstatically, looking unabashedly from your face to your cock, which, after a day’s worth of anticipatory masturbation, is not erect, but definitely swelling at the prospect of the delights ahead.

“’I caught mummy sucking his cock,’ Sissy explained. ‘Would you believe it? And so, I thought, why should she have all the fun.’

“’Tonight’s going to be the best no-pajamas party ever!’ exclaims Suzy, pulling her t-shirt over her head to reveal a very tightly packed bra.

“’Mummy and Daddy don’t allow us to have boys at our no-pajamas party’s because they’re afraid that if we did, we would do sex things,’ explains Sissy. ‘What they don’t know is that we do sex things anyway.’

“’I bet it’s more fun with a boy though,’ Suzy puts in. She has removed her shoes and socks and now reaches behind her and undoes her bra, letting it drop to the floor. Her pale, large-nippled boobs swing freely. ‘After all, girls don’t have stiffies. Look at that, David’s cock is getting really stiff watching me take all of my clothes off. I love making a boy pop a chubby.’

“With this she unzips her jeans and starts to wriggle them off. They are so tight that it takes a good deal of wriggling before they come down, dragging her white cotton-tail panties with them, to reveal a deliciously jiggly bottom. A nest of curly black pubes between her legs sets off the total picture of a cute, cuddly, nude bundle of puppy-fat. Leaving her clothes scattered on the floor she bounds into your lap and gives you a big sloppy kiss on the lips.

“’Be careful,’ Sissy warns. ‘We don’t want him to shoot his load before the party even starts.‚

“’Spoil sport,’ Suzy pouts. “But I suppose you’re right. Anyway, how are we going to make one stiff dick satisfy ten wet little pussies.’

“’Don’t worry,’ Sissy reassures her, ‘we’ll all get a taste and the winner of the party games will get what’s left. Oh, there’s the door-bell again.’

“’So what’s the surprise?’ asks Tracy, a slim blonde in a red and white cheerleader’s outfit, as she enters the living room. ‘Oh, fantastic, a guy. A nude guy with a stiff prick. My favourite kind.’

“’Show him your latest routine,’ suggests Suzy.

“’With or without the uniform?’ Tracy asks.

“’Oh, dahhhhh!’ replies Suzy.

“Quickly Tracy strips out of her uniform, ending by bending with her bottom towards you and pulling her white satin panties slowly down to reveal more and more of her tantalizing butt-crack. Eventually they slide down her long legs and she is nude.

“She is a little flat-chested but mostly you are not looking at her chest as she does her athletic routine. All the high kicks and mid-air splits are calculated to show off one thing - her pussy, which she has shaved totally for maximum impact.

“Tracy’s routine is interrupted by another buzz on the door bell. This time it is a party of three. All are dressed alike in navy-blue t-shirts, elastic banded white shorts, knee-high white socks and white sandshoes. Sissy introduces them. Cindy is a short, freckled redhead; Debbie, a tall brunette with firm round breasts; and Poppy is a short, brunette with wire-frame glasses who acts a little shy.

“’We had a great nature ramble,’ Cindy explains as they enter. ‘It’s just a pity that the club won’t let us really get back to nature. I feel so over-dressed.’

“Then the three of them see you sitting there, all smile and stiffy.

“’Oh, goody. A boy,’ cries Cindy.

“’Cute stiffy,’ Debbie adds casually. ‘Don’t tell me you girls have been teasing the poor boy.’

“Poppy just blushes. Her glasses fog up and she wipes them anxiously on her t-shirt before putting them back on.

“’Come on, girls,’ complains Tracy. ‘You’re a bit slow getting your gear off aren’t you. David wants to see your boobs, your butts and your pussies. And he wants to see them now.’

“I’m sure David can speak for himself,’ Cindy points out. Bending down she adds, conspiratorially in your ear, ‘Poppy, Debbie and I really can’t wait to get nude for you, but that Tracy is such a pushy bitch.’

“’So, David,’ puts in Debbie, teasingly, ‘do you want to see us nude?’

“’No,’ you reply, mysteriously.’

“’No’?,” I cried, interrupting Vanessa’s story. “I don’t think you can be trusted to tell this story properly.”

“Shh, silly,” she scolded me, “you’ll spoil it.”

“’You don’t want us nude?’ cries Cindy in disbelief. ‘What kind of pervert are you?’

“’Well,’ you explain, timidly, ‘I kind of like the idea of you leaving your socks and sandshoes on.’

“’So David likes the idea of a trio of bare-assed nature walkers, hey,’

"Debbie grins.

"With that Cindy and Debbie lift their t-shirts over their heads and pull down their shorts. They have no panties on.

“’That’s better,’ sighs Cindy, ‘I’ve been dying to do that all day long. Hey Poppy, don’t be a slow-coach. I can’t wait for David’s reaction when he sees your cute little naked butt.’

“’But I’m shy,’ Poppy complains.

“’I know you’re shy at school,’ Cindy concedes, ‘but you’re never shy at our parties. Our champion little masturbator, you are. You should see her play with herself,’ she adds to you. ‘In fact later on you almost certainly will. So what’s the matter now.’

“’I’ve never been naked in front of a boy,’ Poppy explains, her face now bright red.

“’I know you get shy with boys,’ Cindy tries to help, ‘but you told me that that was just because you kept thinking about touching their cocks and you knew you would get in trouble if you did. You don’t have to worry about that tonight. Everybody’s allowed to touch David’s cock.’

“’I don’t know,’ Poppy frets. ‘It’s so embarrassing.’

“’Come on Debbie,’ Cindy says with a sigh, ‘we’ll have to help her.’

“With this Debbie grabs Poppy around the waist while Cindy pulls her t-shirt over her head. Then Debbie grabs Poppy’s hands while Cindy pulls down her shorts. With her hands held over her head she can’t cover herself, but she obviously desperately wants to cover the luxurient, untrimmed black pubes that cover the area below her slight pot-belly.

“’Now if I let you go,’ Debbie asks, ‘do you promise not to cover yourself or put your clothes back on.’

“’Yes,’ relents Poppy. ‘I promise.’

Poppy is shaking when Debbie lets her go, but she doesn’t try to cover herself. She walks nervously over to you and sits her soft, warm naked back-side on your knee. ‘Hello, David‚’ she says softly, her voice shaking a little. She looks down at your stiff prick. ‘Can I touch it?’ she asks.

“’Sure,’ you reply.

“All of a sudden something snaps in her. She grabs your prick in her soft, warm right hand and begins to wank it furiously. Simultaneously she throws her other arm around your neck and kisses you on the mouth.

“Debbie and Cindy try to pull her off of you, but it is too late, your cum spurts all over the place, most of it pouring all over Poppy’s hand and your own belly. Seeing this she gets down on her knees and starts slurping it up off of your belly with all the uninhibited enthusiasm of a vacuum cleaner.

“’That’s the old Poppy we’ve come to know and love,’ Cindy comments, just before the door bell rings once more.

“This time it’s the trench-coat mafia, female branch. Four brunettes in long black anoraks and boots. They throw off their coats to reveal that, no big surprise here, they are wearing nothing underneath.

“’Ah,’ Sissy cries, ‘Anne, Carol, Sandra and Wendy. Now everybody is here.’

Anne is curvy with a tattoo of a rose on her belly; Carol is slender but graceful with nipple rings; Sandra is very thin with a navel stud; and Wendy has smallish breasts but very chunky hips. They sit on the floor to remove their boots, thus flashing their pussies at you shamelessly.

“’This is David,’ Sissy introduces you to them. ‘Thanks to Poppy he’s already shot his load, but with ten nude girls to play with I think you’ll find he’ll be stiff again in no time.

“And so the festivities commence. The first game is Spin the Bottle. Since you’re the only guy present, it is decided that you should always be the recipient of the kisses. And since these kisses are of the belly to belly, bottom-stroking, tongue-entangling, all out snogging variety, you enjoy yourself immensely, sitting back while the bottle spins, waiting to sample each girl’s unique kissing technique. Of course, when it is Poppy’s turn, she has to be physically dragged off of you when her time is up.

“By this time your cock is once more as stiff as ever. Everywhere you look you see bouncing boobs, bent-over bottoms, and casually spread legs.

“’Oh, dear‚’ says Wendy, ‘we’re all out of chips. And there’s loads of dip left.’

“Inspired, you pick up a barely touched tub of French Onion Dip, and stick the end of your stiff cock into it, gathering as much as you can on the end of it.

“’Now, now, girls,’ you insist, ‘one at a time, and no fair biting.’

“There follows the most deliriously obscene ten-way tag team blow job you could possibly imagine.

“Next on the agenda is a little game called Musical Cock. You lie back and the girls take turns impaling their sopping wet pussies on your rigid member while music plays in the background. Whoever has your cock in their pussy when the music stops is eliminated.

“It is just in the middle of this game that Sarah comes down the stairs, as chance would have it catching you with your dick in her daughter’s pussy.

“’You’re making far too much noise, Sissy,’ she complains, lifting her off of your cock casually. ‘Off to bed all of you.’

“’And David can come to my bed,’ she adds, when you are alone, the girls having disappeared into various spare-bedrooms.

“’You don’t need those giggling girlies,’ she says when she has you in her bed. ‘You need a real woman who knows how to satisfy a man.’

“With that she throws you down on the bed, like this. Straddles you, like this. Grabs your stiff cock, more or less like I am doing right now, and directs it into her warm, sopping wet pussy, which in many ways resembles my own warm, sopping wet pussy, which you can feel now all around your stiff cock. Then you and your best friend’s mum enjoy a long slow fuck.”

“Are you sure this is allowed in the rules?” I asked, as I willingly slid my rigid member back and forth inside her slippery passage.

“Fuck the rules,” Vanessa moaned. “I’m horny.”

Now that the first pressure for release was off, we took our time, enjoying every sensation. We humped slowly and sinuously, each one’s hands stroking all over the other’s sweat-soaked body. It started with Vanessa on top, but when I rolled her onto her back her legs spread wider to let me sink deeper within her, then I felt her feet on my bottom as she closed her legs around me. Wave after wave of pleasure ran through my body and an intense warmth and love for Vanessa suffused me as we merged in easy ecstacy.

At last the time was right and I shot my seed somewhere deep inside her warm belly.

A gentle, warm breeze off the sea dried the sweat on our skin, while we lay on the beach in a languid state of post-coital bliss.

“Now you have to tell me a story,” Vanessa reminded me playfully.

“But how am I supposed to drive you into a sexual frenzy with a story, when you’ve just had all of your sexual needs satisfied?” I asked. “It wouldn’t be a fair competition.”

“Well, I think I won the competition anyway,” Vanessa explained. “Given your Porky Pig on Viagra impersonation earlier, I can’t imagine what your story would have to make me do to allow you to win. But I still want a story. If it’s good enough I might give you a booby prize.”

“What kind of booby prize?” I asked.

“What else for a booby prize, than a boob job?” Vanessa asked, jiggling said body parts with her hands.

“I don’t know,” I said grabbing my own chest flesh, “I think for a guy I’m well enough endowed as it is in that department.”

“No, silly,” Vanessa corrected me, “not that kind of boob job. The kind of boob job were Nessa holds her soft, white boobies close together and lets David rub his stiff dicky between them, until he cums all over her face.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I responded, enthusiastically, although my dicky at that stage was not capable of doing anything but hanging down his head and dripping cum mixed with pussy juice onto the sand.

“But first you have to tell the story,” Vanessa pointed out. “If it doesn’t get me playing with myself, I might decide it is not even worth a booby prize.”